


Change Your World

by BearlyCharis



Category: Clone High
Genre: Cleo and Joan are FRIENDS in this fic I don't like how they fight in canon :(, F/M, Gandhi is just kinda there (but i felt bad if I didn't include him), JFK is an emotional support himbo, Joan uses her words, Rated T for swears otherwise this is just fluff no need to worry my dears, abe is the Bad Guy here, did I mention I hate abe, joan and cleo aren't the ship here but like they do be having a few moments, the Grassy Knoll do be the most romantic spot in Exclamation USA, we love JFK respecting Joan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27093550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearlyCharis/pseuds/BearlyCharis
Summary: Way way back in the 1980s... Joan of Arc decided to ditch prom early, which may have been the best decision of her life. Abe had been at the forefront of her mind for far too long, and it was time for something different. Who knew different was gonna change everything for her?
Relationships: JFK & Joan of Arc (Clone High)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 45





	Change Your World

**Author's Note:**

> Hello my lovies!
> 
> I don't post that often anymore and this mAY or may not be my first Clone High fic (I will be writing more destiel don't worry) bUT I've been wanting to write Clone High for so long right now, and honestly? I'm proud of what I was able to put out. If you like this, feel free to leave kudos or comments, they make my day (and I never write straight ships anymore so take this with a grain of salt because the gay here is severely lacking)
> 
> (Also cancel Abe because I ~hate him~)
> 
> With all that said, on to the fic! This is for you Sky (I adore you with all my heart <3)
> 
> \- Charis

_Why was it so cold out?_

If there’s one thing that Joan knew about the small, suburban town of Exclamation, it’s that everything happened for a reason. The Meatlocker had a rotten stench coming out from a pipe nearby as she walked the perimeter of the building, deep bass-boosted music echoing from inside along with screams of delight from her peers. 

She sighed, moving along with Cleo’s bright red dress dragging at her feet and her arms wrapped tight around her chest. If she stalled far enough, she was sure she could make it home before anyone noticed she was gone. 

Of course, the only person who would care to notice was Kennedy. 

She pressed her lips together and watched her breath turn into vapid condensation, considering how the night had begun. Of course, it was her own fault she hadn’t thought things through more clearly. And of course, Kennedy would pull some bullshit like inviting four more dates to prom, Joan being the least of the five. 

It had been a last resort, really, some petty trick that had dragged her down further than she’d meant to fall. Abe had been following Cleo around like a lovesick stray, and after Kennedy broke up with her, Abe was just another conquest for her to conquer. Joan’s intention had never been for things to go this far, but giggly sluts don’t say no, right?

She felt something sting at the corner of her eyes, sitting down on the cold metal steps while running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to flatten the teasing Cleo had done to it. She clenched her jaw together, feeling her fingernails dig into her palms.

_She wouldn’t cry._

_Not on prom night._

_Not over a boy that didn’t care about her._

_Not over a boy who she used._

“Fuck,” she whispered, biting down on the soft skin of her cheek and feeling a hot tear fall down her face. “Jesus _fucking_ Christ.”

She heard footsteps echoing from the hallway leading from one of the many rooms, thunking on top of the scraps of metal. “Joan!” A voice called. “Joanny? Where are you?”

She bowed her head, suppressing a groan as Kennedy ran out to her, seeing her hunched figure isolated. 

“Joan?” He asked, looking down at her, his green tie muted in the night. “You alright?”

“Why are _you_ here?” She asked, her voice dripping with apathy. 

“You bailed, sweetheart.” He said gently, taking a seat next to her with his knee propped up. “I wouldn’t leave you hanging.”

She felt a pitfall in her stomach, a rush of guilt waving over her. 

“Do you not get it?!” She exclaimed, glaring at him and locking her eyes on his, the little rivets of black mascara no longer hidden by her curtain of hair. “I _used_ you, Kennedy! I used you to make Abe jealous, and… and it didn’t even work. He doesn’t give a shit.”

He was quiet for a moment, looking at her as she studied the tips of her shoes with sudden interest. 

He probably was mulling over how much he hated her, how one way or another he’d find a way to ruin her life like every other fucking clone at this high school was doing. 

“I know,” he murmured. 

Wait, he _knew?_

Kennedy wasn’t the brightest, but Joan hadn’t pegged him to pick up on any clues that she liked Abe. That was her secret, and she kept it close to her heart despite the fact it felt like it was breaking. 

So in trying to get the attention of one guy, she’d hurt another by treating him as disposable. A fresh wave of newfound disappointment flooded her mind. 

How terrible of a person _was_ she?

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, feeling hot tears begin to run down her face. Her vision was blurry at best, and everything seemed to be fading to darkness. 

They both wordlessly chose to focus on the broken cement for some time, Joan trying to cry as quietly as possible, yearning to go home. This night wouldn’t end. 

“You remember that guy, George Washington Carver?” He asked her, breaking the silence. She looked up at him feeling the air cold on her face. 

Did she remember him? Joan couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him bustle through the silence labs, his gaze unfocused and pace rapid from one beaker to the next. He always seemed to be two steps ahead of the class, even the teachers. 

“I guess so,” she muttered, “why?”

“He left about two months ago,” Kennedy shrugged, looking back up at the moon. “Didn’t tell anyone where he was going or bother to announce it. Just packed up and left.”

“Oh.” She said slowly, not knowing why he was telling her this. 

“You know what though?” Kennedy asked again. “He was smart. Like _stupid_ smart.”

“That’s an oxymoron.” Joan frowned. 

“And it’s a damn good one,” he smiled at her. “G.W. knew there were better things for him than this school. He graduated early and headed east to go to an Ivy League.”

Joan squinted at him, wondering how he knew all of this. “You never talked to him.”

“You’re right, I didn’t.” Kennedy nodded, “but I paid attention. Way too many things happen in this town for you _not_ to pay attention.”

She didn’t answer, because she knew he was right. Not every high school decided to have their prom at a meat packaging facility, and that was the least arbitrary thing that had occurred this semester. 

“Point is, G.W. was smart, Joan. He knew he’d be better off changing the world than at this good-for-nothing school.”

“I can’t change the world.” Joan chuckled, feeling a slight defeat in admitting that. 

“Maybe not,” Kennedy eyed her, “but you can change your world if you want to.”

She looked back at him, letting the tension fizzle like a dangerous spark between them. She had already _tried_ to get Abe’s attention multiple times, and she’d failed repeatedly. He was oblivious, but all of her attraction seemed to wither once he started dating Cleo. She hated how he doted over her, but mostly how he only bothered to pay attention to Joan _after_ his relationship had begun. Cleo had left JFK in the dust after they broke up. Maybe Abe could take a hint from her for the better of everyone. 

“Maybe I want to.” She murmured to herself, forgetting he could hear her. 

“That’s the spirit.” He smiled softly at her. “You wanna go back now?”

“No,” she shook her head, “not really.”

“Thank God, me either. If I have to see Gandhi try and dry hump Marie Curie one more time I’m gonna lose it.”

She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the thought as he stood up, offering his hand to her. “You down for a milkshake instead?” He asked. 

She couldn’t hold back a smile as she rested her hand in his, being pulled to her feet. 

“I’d like that.”

~  
She learned two things that night. 

The first was that if you wanted a good milkshake, then Kennedy was your guy. 

~  
“Two please,” he said, sliding into the barstool of the Grassy Knoll’s vintage bar and resting his elbows on the plastic countertop. 

“Comin’ right up, sugar.” The lady smiled at him, eyeing Joan with curiosity. “And what’ll the young lady have?”

Joan froze, her hands brushing invisible wrinkles out of her lap. “Um… just strawberry is fine.”

“ _Just_ strawberry?” Kennedy eyed her in disbelief. He looked back over at the woman running the counter. “Would you get a load of this one?”

The lady chuckled, grabbing a bottle of bright green syrup off the shelf and a carton of chocolate ice cream out of the freezer. “Show her what you know.”

“What is she talking about?” Joan asked, feeling somewhat out of place. There were a few couples scattered throughout the diner, but soft music was the only thing muting their conversation to anyone who bothered to listen. 

“Joanny, you don’t just get a _strawberry milkshake,_ here.” He said, rolling his eyes. 

“Well, what are you having?” She asked, her tone a little stiffer than it had been before. 

“I-”

His voice cut off as the loud sound of the blender dulled his voice with a deafening roar, the lady making his drink shrugging sheepishly as if she didn’t care he was cut off one way or the other. The machine died down and she poured the milkshake from the pitcher into a frosted glass. 

“I’m having this masterpiece,” he smiled as she slid the drink across the counter to him, the glass falling comfortably into his hand. “Want a sip?”

She frowned, eyeing the glass. “Am I gonna regret this?” She asked the lady.

She grinned, throwing a hand towel over her shoulder. “The only regret you’ll really have is that you didn’t bother to try.” She told her. 

Joan took a deep breath and let Kennedy hand the drink to her, taking a sip out of the light blue straw. Rich, cold chocolate immediately filled her mouth, but it wasn’t until she swallowed she realized what the green syrup had been. 

“Mint!” She exclaimed, grinning at Kennedy who nodded back. 

“Girl Scout Thin Mint.” He told her proudly. “My own creation.”

“Isn’t he special?” The lady asked Joan, rolling her eyes slightly. Joan stiffened a laugh as she gave the drink back to him, asking for the lady to make a second. The sweet taste of minty chocolate was something she wanted to try again. 

“I told you it wouldn’t be bad,” he told her, tapping the glass with his index finger. 

“Well, maybe you were right.” She admitted begrudgingly. “You happy now?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.” He told her. “You just changed your world a little.”

“Did I?” She asked as the woman placed her milkshake in front of her, walking down to the opposite end of the counter to help another couple with their order. 

“Sure,” Kennedy affirmed, “you would’ve just ordered plain strawberry if I hadn’t intervened.”

“You act as though you saved my life just now.” She smiled. 

“I saved you from a boring drink.”

“Well sue me for appreciating the classics,” she said airily, opening her straw and letting it slide into the blended ice cream. 

“And where’s the fun in that?” He prodded. “What, no flavor?”

“To each their own, Kennedy.” She said, lifting the glass to tap the rims of their shakes together, which he followed, clinking the glasses. “But next time, we’re getting strawberry.”

He took a sip, looking deep in thought as she worked her way through her own drink. 

He set the glass down, turning to meet her eye again. “Next time, huh?”

She opened her mouth for a quick response but shut it just as fast. Had she seriously just said that? 

_Next time._

There wasn’t going to be a next time, because the fact they were here together was Joan’s fault. He was doing this to be nice - nothing more, nothing less. 

“I’m teasing,” he grinned, “and a classy broad like me can dig strawberries.”

“... Good to know,” she said slowly, thankful her hair was hiding her smile. 

They spoke idly for a while about things that were easy to talk about. In truth, despite being one of the most popular guys at school, Joan didn’t know anything about Kennedy. He seemed to exist in his own sphere and crowd whereas she drifted along the outside at her leisure. It was comfortable to stay where they were accepted. But colliding two worlds that had nothing to do with each other wasn’t obscene in her mind. 

Joan fiddled with the tip of her straw, dabbing any traces of lipstick off her face. The shade Cleo had put on her was much too dark anyways. “God, this stuff gets everywhere.” She frowned. 

“Let me guess: Cleo got handsy with your face and last season’s shade of Maybelline?”

She clicked her tongue while pointing in affirmation, her napkin crumpled in her fist. “This isn’t me.”

“Then why’d you let her?” He asked, sliding his glass forward to signal he was finished. 

“Because I was desperate,” she shrugged, “and come on, Cleo offered to make me look pretty? Who would pass that up?”

“Believe me, Cleo’s gotten me into makeup before, and I’d gladly refuse a second time.” Kennedy shuddered. “But I don’t think that’s true.”

“What?” Joan asked, making a mental note of his encounter with Cleo. If her roommate was in a good mood later, maybe she’d ask about it. And knowing Cleo would be blissed out after a rushed fuck from Abe, chances are she’d want to go to sleep. 

“Cleo making you pretty?” He asked as though it was obvious. “She just changed your look, dear. You were stunning before she put anything on that face of yours.”

Joan felt her face heat from his compliment, almost making out a tiny smirk on his face knowing he could see how flustered she was, but the sincerity of his words never faltering. 

She cleared her throat, pushing her milkshake forward, suddenly positive if she drank anymore she’d get sick. “Thank you.”

~  
It wasn’t like Joan didn’t have money, but she was so irritated by the idea a man had to pay for… whatever it was they just did. She insisted that she at least pay for her milkshake, but Kennedy refused while pulling out a well-weathered looking wallet and sliding money onto the counter along with a tip. He waved a brief ‘thank you’ to the lady who made their milkshakes before jogging ahead of Joan to open the door for her. 

“What a gentleman.” She grinned, rolling her eyes. 

“Don’t see yourself short,” he told her as they walked out to the parking lot, the temperature seeming to drop with every step. “I could’ve done a lot better tonight.”

“This wasn’t so bad.” She shrugged, opening the door to the car and sinking into the seat. She saw him shake his head, looking perplexed as he walked around to the driver’s seat before slumping into the leather. 

“It really wasn’t,” he said, his voice a little softer than before. “And prom was honestly the worst part.”

“What bit?” She asked her tone dry. “The government agents or Abe and Cleo?”

He chuckled, letting his hands fall around the curve of the steering wheel, but never starting the engine. “Well I could care less about Cleo, she’s free to do as she pleases with Lincoln, you know?”

Joan nodded, realizing how easy it was to agree with him. “But you gave him a run for his money,” he told her, “and that was a show in itself.”

“I did, didn’t I?” She asked, remembering how flustered Abe had looked seeing her lean into Kennedy’s ear and whisper things she couldn’t bother to remember. But she sure as _hell_ remembered how her stomach dropped as Kennedy’s hand snaked around her waist and pulled her tight to him. 

“But you’re forgetting the real star of the show was Scudworth,” he told her, his tone carrying a faux-seriousness to it. “Puts the rest of us to shame.”

“Oh, I know.” She agreed, mimicking his voice with forced vigor. “Leave it to the near-50-year-old man to be crowned prom king and then be outshined by John Stamos.”

Both of them paused for a second, meeting one another’s eye before bursting into laughter over how ridiculous the entire situation had seemed. 

“Come on, Joanny, let’s get you home.” He murmured with a smile, turning the keys into the ignition, throwing the gear into reverse, and wrapping his arm around the head of Joan’s seat so he could back up. Something at the notion of him doing that made her bite down on the inside of her cheek to suppress a smile. 

The ride back wasn’t _that_ long, but it didn’t pass by her that he took a long way home, going every possible extra turn that faced them in the road. Metallica was blasting through the speakers and Kennedy sang along rather out-of-tune, but Joan didn’t find it in herself to care. 

(And if she joined in, he was polite enough not to comment.)

He pulled into Cleo’s driveway, the beams of his car reflecting onto the white garage door, and Joan suddenly hesitant to get out of the warm seat. When she went back inside, things would turn grey. Cleo would be waiting for her, either hyped up on endorphins thanks Abe or ready to tear her to pieces for going out with Kennedy. 

But that was her choice to make, and she realized she had every right to enjoy her prom no matter how shitty it had been. 

“Well this is my stop,” she said halfheartedly, opening her door and feeling a rush of winter air coat her. She shivered, stepping out into the cold. He followed her, getting out of the driver’s seat and walking alongside her until they got to the door. There was a pale light shining overhead left on so Joan could see when she came back, but everything else felt utterly dark. 

“You know how to have a good time, Joan.” He smiled down at her. 

“Really?” She scoffed. “Crying outside the Meatlocker is fun for you?”

“Not really, but the milkshakes weren’t so bad, eh?”

“You got a point,” Joan admitted. 

“Although, I gotta say, you barely can get it into your mouth, can you?”

“Excuse me?” She laughed in disbelief. 

“You got- you got something right there,” he said, brushing his thumb toward her face as she shrieked, dodging away from it. “Right there!” He exclaimed, now twisting around as she ducked under his arm, trying to get away from his hand. 

“No, I don’t!” She yelled back, moving in circles around him on the small porch, suddenly indifferent if anyone heard her. She was _allowed_ to have fun. And fuck, if it was with Kennedy so be it. 

“You do!” He insisted, moving quickly and suddenly grabbing her chin with his thumb and nestling his pointer underneath. He tilted her head up slightly to meet his eye and the moment seemed to freeze as Joan was unable to look away, the puffy clouds of their breath mixing in the illumination of the porch light. “Ah, there it is,” he said softly, still looking at her, his chest expanding ever slightly each time he took in a breath of winter air. 

Joan was positive he could see the blush spreading over her face, the space between them small and heated with what wasn’t being said aloud. 

“You got me.” She breathed. 

And they were still, the air between them silent but ringing with words Joan didn’t understand. 

She didn’t think she wanted to understand them. 

He pressed his lips together, slowly lowering her chin back down and letting his hand fall to his side. “See you around?”

She looked down at the wooden boards of the porch, her face burning. “See you around, JFK.”

~  
The second thing she learned that night is when someone wants to make you happy they’ll make you laugh. 

And then they’ll hold your face in their hands like you’re their entire world until you want to believe it. 

~  
“Shut _up,”_ Cleo deadpanned, flopping across her bed and the faux-fur blanket that cushioned around her curves. “He did not take you out after.”

“He did,” Joan smirked, not bothering to look up from her book, “what’s it to you?”

Cleo pouted, looking out her window, the dreary grey winter almost off-putting as the rain trickled down into sleet. Cleo slept in after coming home from the dance; she’d waved absentmindedly to Joan after staggering into the room, early in the dark hours of the morning. Neither of the girls had bothered to talk about what happened, sheer exhaustion filling in as an excuse to ignore each other until the next morning. “He never took me out for dinner.”

“I’d hardly call it dinner,” Joan replied “Besides, if you ask Abe I bet he’ll take you to the Grassy Knoll.”

“Probably…” Cleo said, trailing off and flipping onto her back to look up at the ceiling where various posters were pinned up. “Whatever happened to you at prom anyway? You were there and just dipped.”

“It wasn’t for me,” Joan shrugged, setting down her book and sliding a random piece of paper between the pages to mark her spot. Anything was good enough to be a bookmark if you weren’t a little bitch about it. “Too loud, you know?”

“I guess,” Cleo said, trailing her fingers through the covers, her makeup smeared under her eyes. “Ugh, I should’ve taken this off when I came home. Now I’m gonna break out.”

Joan shook her head, smiling as she walked over to Cleo’s bureau and grabbing a package of makeup wipes. “You have better skin than half the girls in our grade,” Joan told her as she sat down next to Cleo on her soft bed, opening the top and grabbing a wipe. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Cleo’s expression softened as Joan gently wiped away the makeup under her eyes and the hints of splotchy foundation that hadn’t quite blended into her neck. She’d taken hers off almost as soon as she walked through the door, rather relieved to have the various powders off of her face. She detested the smell of makeup and was happy to get rid of it. 

“I still can’t believe you scored a date with _Kennedy_ of all people. You hardly seem like this type.” Cleo said as Joan grabbed another wipe. 

“Wow, thanks,” Joan drawled, slightly annoyed at the comment. 

“Oh don’t be such a toy,” Cleo rolled her eyes, “I only meant it that he doesn’t date around.”

“We’re not dating.” She said, a little too quickly. “And he flirts with every girl in this god-awful school.”

“He flirts, sure,” Cleo nodded, “but he doesn’t sleep around. You’ve got him all wrong.”

“What are you talking about?” Joan asked, remembering the four other dates that had joined her in the limousine much to her disdain. “Catherine the Great and the Brontë sisters were there with him.”

Cleo shook her head, pulling her dark brown hair back into a ponytail and tying it off. “He was helping them,” she told her. “I don’t mean to sound like a snob-”

Joan snorted and Cleo glared at her. 

“As I was _saying,_ I don’t wanna sound like a snob but the Brontë sisters are poor, Joan. They’re smart as hell, but they don’t have a lot of money. Catherine the Great is trying to convince her family right now to let her move out. She wants to ‘revitalize’ or whatever that means, but they’re not on board. He was giving them a ride, but I’d hardly call them extra dates. You were the only one he bothered to ask.”

Joan paused, crossing her knees on the bed so she sat parallel to Cleo, processing what she had said. “There’s no way,” she frowned, “he wouldn’t want to go with me.”

“Well I did do a pretty good job with your makeover,” Cleo said halfheartedly, grabbing a blanket and gently draping it over Joan’s shoulders and taking her hands into her own. “But it’s not like you needed it. I think he was gonna ask you either way.”

“Really?” Joan asked, her voice small in disbelief. 

“Yes, you idiot!” Cleo laughed, looking exasperated. “He hasn’t asked anyone out since we broke up.”

“I honestly wasn’t paying attention,” Joan admitted, pulling the blanket tighter to her body. There was a steady chill starting to fill the room as if there was a window open, but all the frames were shut tight. 

“It’s because you won’t get your head out of the clouds over Abe,” Cleo frowned, still holding on to Joan’s hands, her skin cold. “I know you’ve wanted him since school started.”

Joan felt her face grow warm, a pink tinge pale over her cheeks. “Not anymore,” she said quietly, remembering the sting of his words saying she was pretty only after Cleo had worked her magic. “I’ve given up on him.”

Cleo’s lips drew into a line as if contemplating her words. “Because he started dating me?”

Joan shook her head, exhaling slowly. “Because he’s an asshole,” she frowned, “and he hurts me. I hope he doesn’t hurt you; God knows he won’t realize if he does, but I can’t keep wasting time on someone who won’t put the same level of energy into me. It’s nonreciprocal.”

Cleo frowned, crossing her arms. “Abe is alright,” she said slowly, “but he’s far from perfect and he’s like the _definition_ of a straight white boy.”

“I hate to tell you, but Kennedy isn’t exactly that far off the chart from ‘straight white boy.’”

“You might be surprised,” Cleo said, looking mischievous. “And he’s one hell of a flirt when he knows you like him back.”

Joan couldn’t suppress a grin. “Whereas Abe just stands there like this.” She focused her eyes on the tip of her nose with a placated smile on her face, exaggerating the hunch in her back. 

Cleo cackled, leaning into the headboard. “Exactly!” She said. He’s just _there.”_

Cleo fell back on the bed, motioning for Joan to come and lay next to her. Joan rested her head on Cleo’s collarbone, nestling her chin above her chest while Cleo’s arms wrapped around her. 

“You deserve better,” she told her softly, stroking Joan’s red hair. “Abe isn’t that for you.”

“I know.” Joan murmured, closing her eyes and settling into the warmth of Cleo’s comforter. 

“But you’re gonna find something better,” Cleo said, staring up at the ceiling, breathing slowly, “and if I’m pretty sure it may have already found you.”

~  
Joan didn’t care if it was arbitrary, but she preferred the winter over the spring or summer any day. She loved to be warm _while_ it was cold, and being held under a pile of blankets was unbearable in the humidity of the summer sun. 

She wasn’t entirely sure how it happened, but she was wrapped in one of Cleo’s jackets, the fur collar having been removed because of the way it tickled her neck uncomfortably. The five of them were standing outside of the school, the sun setting quietly over old snow that had frozen to ice and the chill of icy February, a comfort to Joan. 

Cleo was huddled next to Abe who seemed to look preoccupied as she clung to his arm and Gandhi had two icicles stuck to his tongue which no one in particular thought was funny. 

Joan was standing next to Kennedy who was sipping hot chocolate as the steam drifted up into the sky. 

“You did a great job, Cleo.” Joan smiled at her. “The school council really came through for the pep rally.”

“We try,” Cleo smirked, leaning into Abe’s shoulder who stiffened at her motion. “There aren’t enough people on the team. I keep telling Abe to join, but he’s so… stubborn!” She smiled while squeezing her boyfriend’s arm, but her eyes held a frustrated look. “Why don’t you want to do it with me, baby?”

“It’s not for me,” Abe shrugged, seeming indifferent. “I’d rather have free time to hang out with Gandhi.”

“That’s my man!” Joan heard Gandhi call from several feet away, now appearing to be scooching down a mound of ice as though he could sled without… a sled.

“Hey, don’t forget about me!” Cleo giggled, cuddling into the side of his soft parka, Joan internally wincing. If there’s one thing Cleo hated, it was to be ignored.

“Right…” Abe agreed, trailing off as he dug the tip of his boot into the snow. There was a moment of silence no one seemed to know how to fill. Cleo coughed loudly, redirecting the conversation to Joan. 

“Hon, I’ve been telling you to join all year! Why don’t you?”

“You know me, I’m too busy,” Joan said, knowing full well the only premeditated activities that booked her schedule was curling up near the windowsill with a good story. “You seem to have it covered.”

“I guess,” said Cleo slowly. “I hate that these things start so late, though. The sun is setting and it’s already dark out.”

“Now that you mention it, Toots will worry if I’m not home soon - we should probably leave,” Joan said, checking her watch which read it was already past nine at night. She hadn’t planned to stay out this late for the pep rally, but between the cheering and events students were participating in, she hadn’t really cared to leave. 

“Abe, can you drive me home?” Cleo asked, batting her eyelashes at her boyfriend who was digging in his pockets for his keys.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice dry, “no problem. Joan, do you… do you need a ride too?”

“Well, actually I was gonna offer to bring her home.” Kennedy smiled, walking forward and putting his arm around her shoulder, a little too gentle to be considered a friendly gesture. “What do you say, sweetheart?”

“That’s fine, I’ll go with Kennedy,” Joan told them, unable to hide the flush creeping onto her face. 

“Alright great!” He smiled “I’ll just heat up the-”

“Now hold on,” Abe cut off, a glare in his eye. “Joan, you’re seriously going with this guy?”

She frowned at him, feeling something suddenly tighten in her chest. “I actually am, is that a problem?” 

Abe pressed his lips together, looking around nervously as if a crowd was gathering to listen to him speak, but the only people paying attention were the four other clones. Cleo looked stunned and Kennedy’s jaw had tightened slightly in silent defense. “He’s a scumbag, Joan, you’re better than being caught dead with him.”

She paused, shocked, and unsure that words were even coming out of Abe’s mouth right now. _What_ did he just say?

“He’s my _friend,”_ Joan hissed at him, stepping forward, away from Kennedy so she was closer to Abe. “You have no right to say that about him.”

“Since _when?”_ Abe asked in disbelief.

“Oh, I don’t know, since you decided to forget I existed?” Joan snapped. “Since you decided I wasn’t important enough to be a part of your life anymore?”

“You know that’s not true!” He spat, his hands tightening into fists. 

_“Please,”_ she drawled, feeling venom tinge her words, “you don’t give a fuck about anyone other than yourself anymore. It’s pathetic, Abe.”

“Like you even bothered to stay with Gandhi and me,” Abe snarled, “instead you’re creeping around with Cleo and Kennedy like you suddenly _belong_ to them.”

“Excuse me?” Cleo snapped, her tone suddenly sharp as a knife. 

Joan shot her a look as if silently asking for her to stay out. This was her grievance with Abe, and Cleo would have her turn later. Cleo fumed, but nodded anyway, understanding her request. 

“I don’t belong to anybody,” Joan said, pacing up to Abe and pointing a finger to his chest and jabbing it harshly. “I don’t belong to Cleo, I don’t belong to Kennedy, and I _certainly_ don’t belong to you! I can do whatever I want and I don’t need your input, got that?”

“Y-you’re not thinking clearly!” Abe stammered a crimson burn flushing over his cheeks. “He’s gonna use you, Joan! He’s gonna break you because he doesn’t care! I don’t approve of this at _all!”_

“Well that’s wonderful,” she snarled, positive her eyes were radiating fire because she could see fear reflected in Abe’s as she looked up at him with hatred. “Because I don’t give a fuck if you approve or not.”

Abe’s mouth dropped slightly, stunned by her words as she turned sharply on her heel grabbing Kennedy’s hand in the process. 

Joan didn’t bother to look back as the wind howled, tussling her hair in a messy wave with icy indents of boots trailing behind her. She was insouciant to whatever Abe bothered to think of her anymore. She wasn’t going to let him break her any further than he already had. 

“I owe you a strawberry milkshake.” She muttered to Kennedy under her breath.

~  
The drive to the Grassy Knoll had been silent, Joan fuming in the passenger’s seat with her arms crossed over her chest with her nails digging into the flesh of her arm. If she was in the driver’s seat, she wasn’t sure she’d have the patience to withstand driving over the side of a bridge and burning up in a motor fire. 

At least she and Kennedy would go out together, two rejects in utterly different ways, right?

She was _livid,_ to say the least. 

He pulled into the lot, soft snowflakes beginning to fall down from the starless sky. He shifted the gear to park, looking over at Joan and taking the key out of the ignition. 

“I… er-”

She opened the door, slamming it behind her, and stormed off to the side of the diner, sliding down the side of the smooth brick wall and burying her head between her arms. It was hard to pinpoint any emotions that stood out right then because everything seemed like a muddled grey area of anger. She didn’t find herself liking the feeling much. 

She may have heard Kennedy’s door open and shut with a thud, locking the car with a click of his keys, and the empty footsteps over the frozen parking lot headed in her direction, but she didn’t bother to look up. It didn’t matter anyway, he’d already seen her go feral in front of Abe. No way in hell he’d want to tolerate her now. 

She felt a heat fill next to her as he sat down, looking at her intently, a knitted hat pulled down over his ears with a tuft of hair curling over his forehead. She brought herself to pull away from the safety of isolating herself. 

She met his eye, asking a silent question before crawling into his arms and pressing her face into his chest, his jacket unzipped, and the sound of his heartbeat and empty echo that brought her closer to him. 

“Joanny,” he said softly, stroking circles over her back and resting his cheek on top of her hair. “You did the right thing.”

She nodded, breathing deeply and taking in his scent. There wasn’t a name she could give it, but there was something comforting to the way his clothes smelled, almost like they’d been loved too long but had something new and fresh at the same time. 

“I hope you know that,” he continued, still rubbing her back, his breaths a little faster and his voice gentle, more so than it had been before. “That I was proud of you back there.”

“Really?” She asked, her question tainted with amusement. Screaming and swearing at Abe hadn’t been something she was proud of. She lost herself to rage in a moment where she felt exposed in front of everyone she cared to hide the deepest parts of herself from. 

“Definitely,” he said, tightening his hold on her with a shiver as the snow fell silently with the floodlights of the parking lot illuminating a soft yellow glow on the pale white. “I don’t think I could’ve done that.”

“But I was so _stupid,”_ she groaned, letter her arms wrap around Kennedy under his jacket so the heavy material of his sweater was against her hands. He didn’t seem to mind at her doing this. “I just stormed out of there-”

“To do exactly what you said you were going to do,” Kennedy told her. “You got a nerve, sweetheart, and it’s a good thing.”

She drew a shaky breath in, pulling apart from his chest slightly to meet his eye. “You told me once that I could change my world if I wanted to,” she said, her voice tight with something she couldn’t pinpoint. “But every move I make seems to be tearing it apart.”

He looked back at her, the faint yellow light casting shadows on his face. He seemed to consider her words, thinking before he spoke. 

“That’s still changing it, Joan. It doesn’t have to be what you pictured to be good.”

“But I want my world to be good.” She whispered, snow catching in her hair and the fog of her breath mulling between them. 

“So make it.” He whispered back.

And without realizing, her lips pressed against his, gently and chapped from the cold, but soft and warm despite the frigid air around them. She was hesitant, kissing him gently before he cupped her jaw, tilting his head and deepening the kiss slightly while smiling softly against her lips. 

The taste of hot chocolate was on his breath and made her shiver as his hands snaked up her back, pulling her close on his lap and the world silent between them. The snow was falling down like little pinpricks on their jackets while she lost herself to his kiss, wanting nothing more than him to numb her mind like this for forever. 

She didn’t need distractions from emotions when the only one she wanted was pressed to her, kissing her like she was the only thing that mattered to him. It was different, but so so right.

_Oh._

__She _had_ changed her world, hadn’t she?_ _


End file.
